much ado about what's-his-name
Yeah, I guess I’m sort of falling in love, I don’t really care anymore. Either I’m becoming increasingly blind to his faults or he is on better behavior. Or I’m starting to like his faults, I don’t know which would be the worse.
I’ve already elaborated upon his faults quite a bit. He has a big ego and sometimes he starts to look like a moron because of it, although sometimes it just bleeds into confidence. He talks too fucking much sometimes, he can ramble on and on and on about politics, and I think it’s interesting and all and he’s very smart but I don’t think he’s looking for a discussion so much as he wants to give a speech.
His good points: he’s fairly mature-this could be because he’s old. I can tell him a lot of things and he’s not too scandalized by them. I really don’t think he cares if I’ve shaved my legs or not, he can talk about menstrual cycles, he didn’t act grossed out when I told him I had a yeast infection-he said, “Yeah, they’re quite common,” then we had sex. Ha. Well, maybe not right then, but you know.
He tries to get me to eat healthy foods, which is kind of cute. He thinks my superfluous use of spray butter is really funny.
He appreciates irony, especially the irony of spray butter. He’s never sarcastic, I hate sarcasm.
Great musical tastes. He even hates Styx, like me.
He likes the Red Hot Chili Peppers though, once we were making out to it and I made him turn it off. Those guys just rub me the wrong way.
He can be very hilarious; he doesn’t tell jokes per se but much of the time the filter is just kind of off, you know, and he says some really sick ass stuff sometimes and I am fond of dirty and morbid humor, of course.
He cooks really well and has a clean apartment.
Oh yeah, back to the flaws, I really don’t like some of his clothes. Some look great on him but most of them make him look fat and shorter. He’s not fat, he’s pretty muscular, I don’t know where he gets these shirts. And the hats? He has some really gay hats. Really. And he wears them backwards QUITE a lot.
Pros again: Great. In. Bed. I’ve talked about this. We’re very mentally attuned. He’s old and all, but quite tenacious.
He writes nice songs about me, even though I write a lot of bitchy ones about him.
Con: he doesn’t call enough, he only calls to make plans, although I guess I’m generally the same way.
Pro: he’s almost as ambitious as I am.
Okay, enough of this bullshit, what a lame ass entry. I guess this was all brought fourth by my Labor Day weekend; we hung out Sunday night, then on Monday slept the hell in, then went for bagels and ate them in the park. We were both planning to go our separate ways but somehow ended up feeling each other up in the park. Then I really had to use the bathroom, so I went back to his apartment and not so shockingly ended up naked, it was mad! Then we pretty much PASSED OUT, really, he was twitching like he does when he’s in deep sleep, and I went into dream land immediately. And all that hedonism was okay because that’s what Labor Day is all about. Best. Labor Day. Ever.
I’ve already elaborated upon his faults quite a bit. He has a big ego and sometimes he starts to look like a moron because of it, although sometimes it just bleeds into confidence. He talks too fucking much sometimes, he can ramble on and on and on about politics, and I think it’s interesting and all and he’s very smart but I don’t think he’s looking for a discussion so much as he wants to give a speech.
His good points: he’s fairly mature-this could be because he’s old. I can tell him a lot of things and he’s not too scandalized by them. I really don’t think he cares if I’ve shaved my legs or not, he can talk about menstrual cycles, he didn’t act grossed out when I told him I had a yeast infection-he said, “Yeah, they’re quite common,” then we had sex. Ha. Well, maybe not right then, but you know.
He tries to get me to eat healthy foods, which is kind of cute. He thinks my superfluous use of spray butter is really funny.
He appreciates irony, especially the irony of spray butter. He’s never sarcastic, I hate sarcasm.
Great musical tastes. He even hates Styx, like me.
He likes the Red Hot Chili Peppers though, once we were making out to it and I made him turn it off. Those guys just rub me the wrong way.
He can be very hilarious; he doesn’t tell jokes per se but much of the time the filter is just kind of off, you know, and he says some really sick ass stuff sometimes and I am fond of dirty and morbid humor, of course.
He cooks really well and has a clean apartment.
Oh yeah, back to the flaws, I really don’t like some of his clothes. Some look great on him but most of them make him look fat and shorter. He’s not fat, he’s pretty muscular, I don’t know where he gets these shirts. And the hats? He has some really gay hats. Really. And he wears them backwards QUITE a lot.
Pros again: Great. In. Bed. I’ve talked about this. We’re very mentally attuned. He’s old and all, but quite tenacious.
He writes nice songs about me, even though I write a lot of bitchy ones about him.
Con: he doesn’t call enough, he only calls to make plans, although I guess I’m generally the same way.
Pro: he’s almost as ambitious as I am.
Okay, enough of this bullshit, what a lame ass entry. I guess this was all brought fourth by my Labor Day weekend; we hung out Sunday night, then on Monday slept the hell in, then went for bagels and ate them in the park. We were both planning to go our separate ways but somehow ended up feeling each other up in the park. Then I really had to use the bathroom, so I went back to his apartment and not so shockingly ended up naked, it was mad! Then we pretty much PASSED OUT, really, he was twitching like he does when he’s in deep sleep, and I went into dream land immediately. And all that hedonism was okay because that’s what Labor Day is all about. Best. Labor Day. Ever.